


the sun watches what i do (but the moon knows all my secrets)

by princehwa



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst for like 2 seconds, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Han Jisung | Han is a Sweetheart, M/M, Roommates, Sassy Minho, astronomer!jisung, eboy minho, hyunjin is a bad influence, it was supposed to just be minsung but i accidentally let hyunjin slip in there, jisung cries its kinda sad, like kinda, painter!minho, theyre not really enemies minho just kind of a dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 13:13:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20471594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princehwa/pseuds/princehwa
Summary: Jisung has always dreamed of going to college. Moving away, the classes, and the exams - it was all a part of his fantasy, since he started middle school. But the thing that he was most looking forward to was a college roommate. Staying up sharing secrets and treating each other to meals, it was the type of bond that Jisung had been missing out on his entire life.It was really a shame that Lee Minho was kind of a dick.





	the sun watches what i do (but the moon knows all my secrets)

**Author's Note:**

> HI OK this was supposed to be like. a 1k oneshot but then i started thinking abt what i could do w this universe and it became Much More...... this is literally based off of that one instagram post where minsung r having morning coffee together,, 
> 
> THANK U TO MY BFFIE ARIIII [@lovknows on twt] FOR YELLING WITH ME AND HELPING ME WITH THE PLOTTTT I LOVE U SOSOSOOSO MUCH WE R MINSUNG #1 FANS WHO PLAN A WHOLE FIC BASED ON AN INSTAGRAM POST
> 
> ok this is not proofread WHATSOEVER so im sorry about any mistakes

He was living the dream. 

Ever since he could remember, Jisung dreamed of moving away from home to go to his college of choice. He was always that weird kid who loved school, the one that finished the homework assignment before the class was even over and asked to write exams early. He rejoiced at every pop quiz and exit slip, and spent his free time studying and researching colleges for the future. After all four years of high school had elapsed, he finally pinpointed the university that he wanted to attend. With dreams of becoming an astronomer, Jisung had settled on a school that had a strong program. It was halfway across the country, but he knew that his parents would support him in his decision to move for his education. 

So, when he lifted his suitcase out of the trunk of the taxi and looked up at the building that would become his residency, Jisung declared that he was living the dream. 

There was just one thing left to complete his childhood fantasy. 

The biggest part of the college experience (besides actual education) - a roommate. 

Jisung had often imagined himself with a total hunk of a roommate. Someone straight out of a K-Drama, who would sweep him off of his feet and be his best friend for the rest of his late. He had devoted many hours of his sad life to imagining what it would be like to stay up all night talking to a roommate, or how it would feel to spend practically every waking hour with someone that cares for you. 

Dreaming of his Prince Charming, Jisung almost forgot his suitcase as he dashed towards the front door of the university dormitory. He tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the elevator, and almost tripped as he ran into the small metal box too fast. He mashed the button with a small 4 on it, as if pressing it 20 times would make the elevator go any faster. As his ears filled with the hum of the elevator and the rattle of his now-broken suitcase handle, he wondered if his roommate would be any of the same classes as him. It would be a mighty shame if his roommate took classes late at night, because Jisung’s schedule was full of morning lectures and afternoon classes. 

A little _ ‘ding!’ _snapped him out of his daydream, and he failed to learn anything from when he entered the elevator less than a minute ago, because he almost face planted while tripping for the second time that day. 

He scurried down the carpeted hallway with his broken suitcase trailing behind him, searching for room 419. When he finally found it (after getting lost twice), he pulled the room key from his pocket and took a deep breath. He knew that he had high expectations, and that it was unlikely that a pretty boy of his dreams was waiting for him on the other side of the door. Jisung shook off the years of fantasies, and slid the key into the lock. 

Gently pushing the door open, he was pleased to see a cute little living space. Half kitchen and half lounge room, Jisung marvelled at the cozy looking couch and the small fridge in the cute kitchen. He took note of the small balcony - that would be a good place to look at constellations. He stepped over the threshold, taking his sneakers (new, for his first day of college) off at the door. As he bent down to untie his laces, he noticed that his roommate had gotten to the dorm first. A pair of expensive-looking Dr. Martens sat on the shoe mat, messily thrown down with tangled shoelaces. Jisung silently pondered his new roommate’s style - the shoes certainly were a statement. 

He suddenly no longer needed to contemplate fashion, because the boy in question came flying out of their shared bedroom. 

Jisung had to physically stop his jaw from dropping, and his suitcase succumbed to it’s broken wheel and fell over with an unceremonious _ clunk _.

His roommate squinted at him with pretty brown eyes, a hand perched on his hip as he gave Jisung an offended stare. Dark blue hair tangled with his eyelashes, shadowing the indignant look on the handsome boy’s face.

“Jesus, dude. You could knock? I thought there was an intruder or some shit,” the boy scowled, rather rudely. But Jisung did not process a single word of it, just watching a pair of pink lips move as he felt his brain turn into jello. 

An oversized black sweater hung off of his roommate’s shoulders, with a slightly wrinkly white collar peeking through the neckline. The hand on his hip was drowning in the sleeve of his sweater, and Jisung’s eyes followed the hem of the sweatshirt down to the worn black skinny jeans, as well as the chain clipped on his belt loops that hung around his left hip and thigh. Jisung assumed that the shiny black combat boots that sat by the door were a good fit for this outfit, probably better than the cheetah print ankle socks that the other was wearing at the moment. Cute. 

“Hello? Earth to roommate dude?” the blue haired boy was suddenly much closer than Jisung remembered, and he stumbled back as he realized that he had totally zoned out. 

“Oh, sorry! I’m, uh. Jisung. Hi,” Jisung stammered dumbly, reaching out a clammy hand. 

His roommate looked down at the hand, squinted at it, and then turned on his cheetah-printed heel in a motion to walk back into the room. Jisung watched his back as he walked away, enchanted by the clinking of the belt chain. 

“Are you going to follow me or not?” 

“Coming!”

Jisung learned that his roommate had already been in the room for a few days, so he had already claimed the left half of the room and all of the furniture that came with it. His bed was fitted with black and red checkerboard blankets, and Jisung swore that he saw a Sanrio plushie peeking out from under the black pillow. 

“Minho, by the way,” the boy grumbled as he threw himself down onto his messy bed, pulling his phone out of his jeans pocket and scrolled through Twitter uninterestedly. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Minho,” Jisung squeaked a little, setting his suitcase on the bed on his side of the room as he surveyed the room. He glanced over at the desk that was designated to him, and sat down on the spinning wheely chair so that he could unpack while sitting. The desk chair let out a loud _ screech, _and Jisung flew to his feet as though he had just sat on a pile of thorns. 

“Yeah,” came Minho’s voice, “That chair was on my side of the room, but I moved it before you got here. Enjoy.”

Jisung stood in shocked silence for a solid minute, wondering what had put Minho in such a bad mood. 

A week had passed, and Jisung learned that it was not a mood. Minho was just _ like that. _All the time. 

Despite looking like the K-Drama boyfriend of his dreams, Minho met none of Jisung’s other expectations when it came to his ideal roommate. He left his dirty clothes wherever he pleased, which wasn’t that big of a deal in the beginning. Jisung didn’t mind it too much when the laundry was contained to Minho’s side of the room, but soon enough he was finding the older’s hoodies on his bed. Whenever Minho came home from his dance practice and made a beeline to the shower, Jisung would inevitably find a sweaty t-shirt somewhere in the living space. The younger tried to remind himself that things would change once the semester started, since they would both be in the dorm way less often. 

Things did not change. 

In fact, they got arguably worse. 

On the first day of classes, Jisung woke up to an empty dorm. Minho had already left for class, judging by the lack of black boots by the front door. Jisung tamed his wild blonde hair and made himself a celebratory breakfast, as he was overly excited to start his college career. 

He practically skipped all the way down the stairs - too excited for the elevator - and basically ran into his lecture hall. Although he wasn’t all that interested in Psychology, the university required all of the first year students to take at least one Social Science class. 

Jisung had left the dorm about half an hour early, eager to get to his class. This meant that he was by far the first one at the lecture, and he had first dibs on the seat he would occupy for the better part of a year. 

He tested out a few different spots, and finally settled for a seat about halfway up and off to the right, next to the window. Checking his watch in anticipation, he realized that there was still 15 minutes before other students would be arriving. Just as he accepted that he would be alone for a while, the classroom door flew open. 

A slender boy with black hair sauntered in, with an expensive looking backpack slung over his shoulder. The boy looked directly at Jisung, and flashed him a blindingly handsome grin. Jisung offered him a weak smile in return, and apparently the stranger accepted this as an invitation. He took the seat next to Jisung (despite the entirely empty classroom of at least 50 other spots), and rested his head on his hand, giving poor Jisung a _ look. _

“Nice to meet you, new seatmate,” the boy greeted kindly, his eyes scrunching up prettily, “I’m Hyunjin. Hwang.”

“It’s r-really nice to meet you too, Hyunjin,” Jisung managed to squeeze a few words through his vocal chords, “I’m Jisung.”

“So _ you’re _Jisung, huh?”

The confused boy didn’t have any time to question how his new friend knew who he was, because before he knew it the lecture hall door was thrown open for the second time. None other than Lee Minho trudged in, his fingers wrapped around a Starbucks cup and his belt chain jingling as he walked. When he raised his head to see the two boys sitting by the window, his eyes lit up in a way that Jisung had never seen before. 

Suddenly, Minho was making his way towards Hyunjin and Jisung. He took the seat directly next to the black haired boy, and pulled out a notebook and pen. Jisung blinked a few times in confusion as Hyunjin and Minho started chattering away, discussing something that the blonde haired boy absolutely did not understand. After politely eavesdropping for a few minutes, Jisung concluded that Hyunjin was Minho’s best friend, and that the two of them were in the dance club together. 

Time flew by as Jisung doodled constellations in his notebook and listened to the dance conversation to his right, and soon enough the class started. 

It became very clear that Jisung was absolutely, surprisingly, and horrifically bad at Psychology. He had never taken it in high school, and had totally forgotten to do some reading about the subject before the semester started. It turned out that while Jisung was floundering in the class, Minho seemed to be completely in his element. The blue haired boy’s hand shot up to answer every question that the professor asked, and he got every single one right. When Minho correctly identified the angular gyrus from a brain diagram, Jisung grumbled and looked out the window. Upon hearing the frustrated noise, Hyunjin tapped his shoulder shot him a look, one eyebrow raised and a smirk pulling at his lips. Jisung quickly understood what he was implying and shook his head quickly, his glasses threatening to fly off of his nose. He was _ not _ jealous, and he was _ definitely _not impressed. 

Psychology proved to be both Jisung’s favorite and most grueling class. 

He enjoyed spending an hour with Hyunjin and Minho, listening to their excited banter and even participating in the conversation on occasion. Despite not being in dance club and having no other classes with him, Jisung found himself becoming close with Hyunjin. He discovered that the black haired boy was the textbook definition of a social butterfly, and his friend circle grew at an alarming rate. 

However, he did _ not _enjoy being bad at a class. Jisung had never been truly lacking in a subject, and he didn’t particularly enjoy the feeling. He could feel his heart sink every time he answered a question wrong in front of the whole class, and Minho getting the question right immediately afterwards was just salt in the wound. 

It didn’t help that Minho had been gently terrorizing him in their dorm room. 

He didn’t say rude things anymore, and he had stopped leaving sweaty shirts around the living room. Jisung still found a few hoodies laying around on his side of the room, but he appreciated the effort that the older was making. 

It was the little things. 

Minho made coffee every morning, but only enough for him alone. At first Jisung thought it was just a coincidence, but one morning Minho gave him a very pointed stare as he poured the tiny amount of coffee into his black mug. 

Jisung appreciated that Minho did the dishes every day, he really did. It was one less thing for him to worry about, and he liked that Minho cared enough to wash the younger’s dishes too. He did, however, mind that Minho constantly put his dishes on the top shelf in the cupboard. The older (and taller) knew that the highest shelf was just out of Jisung’s reach, and he snickered from behind his single cup of coffee at the blonde boy on his tiptoes.

Minho spent all of his free time doing tiny things that sent Jisung over the edge into annoyance, like eating the rest of his cookies or leaving the fridge open. However, the most annoying thing that Minho did was entirely unintentional. 

Jisung was overly irritated by the fact that Minho didn’t spend a single second studying.

He himself had dedicated countless hours to improving his Psychology grade. Taking on extra credit assignments and studying for quizzes, Jisung was basically attached to his textbook. Minho, on the other hand, hadn’t even bought the textbook. The older boy had a grade of 100, and he had never even taken a single note. It pissed Jisung off to no end, and he would be lying if he said that the blue haired boy’s knowledge wasn’t impressively attractive. And as much as reaching for the top shelf and having to buy new cookies was tedious, it was almost like a worldless banter between the two boys.

It also didn’t help that Hyunjin had caught onto his sprouting crush.

“So,” Hyunjin drawled, sipping his sugary Starbucks frappuccino, “When are you gonna confess to Minho?”

Jisung nearly spat out his tea, almost falling off of the park bench that they were perched on. The two of them had made a habit of sitting in the park by the dorms at night, after stopping at Starbucks to spend some money on drinks that they could make at the dorm with a kettle and a blender. 

“Confess _ what? _” Jisung sputtered, wiping at the tea threatening to spill from his lips. 

“You know what.”

And, well, Jisung _ did _know.

But he would rather die than admit it. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hyunjin gave him a deadpan stare, squinting his eyes a little. His bangs were growing too long, and his hair moved with his eyelashes. 

“It’s not like I’m in love with him,” Jisung quickly defended, suddenly becoming very interested in his cardboard cup of tea, “He’s just pretty. Even when he’s eating my food or leaving hoodies on the couch.”

Hyunjin made no move to reply, his lips quirking up into a knowing smirk. Jisung flushed pink and pointedly looked in the opposite direction.

“Shut up,” he mumbled. 

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“I said shut up!”

Hyunjin snickered and hopped up to his feet, walking towards the doors of the dormitory building. 

“Minho is at the studio tonight, he booked it,” Hyunjin called over his shoulder, “Let’s go study some Psych and watch Sailor Moon.”

Jisung scrambled after him quickly, eager to bury his face in a tub of ice cream and pretend that Minho was Tuxedo Mask and he was Sailor Moon. 

The two boys “studied” for a few hours, spending the whole time assigning each of their friends a Sailor Scout and discussing how easy life would be in an anime. Hyunjin departed to his own dorm after they finished a pail of ice cream and the first story arch, complaining of a sore back and scolding Jisung for not doing any actual studying. Before the younger could defend himself, the black haired fiend was already out of the dorm with the door shutting swiftly behind him. 

This left Jisung all alone in the dorm, feeling a crushing sense of loneliness squeezing his heart. He sat curled up on the couch in his pajamas, with his Psychology textbook open in his lap, when he was startled by his roommate throwing the front door open. Minho kicked off his boots and tossed a sweaty hoodie at the couch blob that was Jisung, making his way to the shower. On any other night, the younger might have been amused, or even flustered. But on this night? It just added to the muted stress that was building in his gut. 

Their first big exam of the term was tomorrow, and Jisung simply could not grasp some of the concepts. Pointless terms like _ deindividuation _ and _ ventromedial hypothalamus _just wouldn’t stick in his brain, and he found himself rereading the same paragraph over and over again. Psychology was not his thing, and Jisung was definitely not used to school not being his thing. He couldn’t bear to spend another second reading about phenylketonuria, and he kind of just wanted to curl up and die. But dying wasn’t exactly an option, so he settled for a good ol’ cry. 

Jisung’s eyes brimmed with tears, and he wiped at them furiously with the sleeve of Minho’s sweater that was balled up in his lap. He gave up on trying to hold his head up, and crumpled into a tiny ball in the corner of the couch. 

The bathroom door swung open, and Minho was already wearing pajamas. Jisung listened to his footsteps around the kitchen, and then the strides stopped. 

“Jisung.”

The blonde ball of sadness replied with a wet sniffle, no doubt covering his roommate’s prized hoodie in unattractive snot and tears. He chose not to look up at Minho, refusing to see his stupid pretty face and think about his stupid big brain. The footsteps drew closer to him, and when they came to a stop he was sure that Minho was right in front of him. 

He felt the hoodie in his arms being pulled away, and he watched in horror as Minho walked away with the sweater that had been his make-shift plushie. Jisung physically felt his heart crack in two, and a second wave of tears came crashing over him. He hugged his Psychology textbook, making an angry red mark on his cheek where the corner of the rigid book dug into his face. His tears soaked into the pages, warping the text and ruining some of the pictures. With sniffle, he lifted his head as a slender finger tapped at his hunched shoulder.

Minho offered a different hoodie to him with outstretched arms, rose dusting his cheeks and nose as he averted his gaze from the crying boy.

“At least use a clean one,” Minho muttered as Jisung accepted the sweater, “Sweat is gross.”

Jisung looked up at him with red and puffy eyes, slowly setting his textbook beside him and wrapping his arms around the new hoodie. He recognized it - it was the hoodie that Minho always wore around the house on lazy days, what he wore when he wasn’t all dressed up in polished chains and black skinny jeans. 

“Thank y-you,” Jisung all but wailed, burying his damp and kind of disgusting face in the soft sweater that smelled like lavender shampoo and a place that he had grown to call home. He squeezed his eyes shut and let the tears flow freely, feeling the couch shift next to him. He lifted his head slowly, not prepared for the scene before him. 

Minho sat next to him on the couch, looking at him with something in his eyes that Jisung couldn’t quite name. He unfolded the fluffy blanket that sat in his lap, and then reached forward to wrap it around Jisung’s shaking shoulders. 

“What’s wrong,” Minho said, not even bothering to ask it as a question. 

Jisung stared at him for a moment, taking the striking features of the suddenly gentle boy in front of him. He found himself getting lost in the older boy’s sparkly brown eyeshadow and long eyelashes, daring to let his eyes flicker down to the pair of pretty pink lips that he had always admired from a distance. 

“Hello? Earth to Sungie?” Minho frowned, waving a sweater pawed hand in front of Jisung’s mesmerized face. A small squeak came out of the younger boy’s lips, his cheeks quickly becoming a darker red than the cherry Kool Aid he secretly spilled on Minho’s bedsheets last week. 

“Sorry,” Jisung wiped at his eyes furiously, getting caught up in the Super Pretty Eyes in front of him and momentarily forgetting about the tears that were still streaming down his chubby cheeks, “I’m… it’s stupid, it’s not worth your time.”

Minho’s eyebrows furrowed and his nose scrunched up a little, and he reached for the box of tissues that sat on the coffee table. He rolled up his sleeve and took a tissue in his hand, reaching forward and gently wiping the tears from Jisung’s red cheeks. 

“I asked, Ji,” Minho frowned, tilting his head as he finished drying the younger boy’s face, “You’re worth the time.”

“Why...why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” Jisung sniffled, eyes quickly searching Minho’s face for any signs of a recognizable emotion. 

“Because you’re my roommate and I actually kinda care about you,” Minho mumbled, his cheekbones shining pink as he discarded the tissue, “I tease you because you’re fun to annoy, but right now you’re sobbing on the couch and it kinda makes my heart sad.”

Jisung felt his eyes widen and his jaw drop a little. Was Minho always this blunt?

“So what’s wrong?” Minho asked, more gentle this time. His eyes fell on the Psychology textbook next to the ball of blankets, and he seemed to put two and two together, “Oh.”

“Y-yeah, oh,” Jisung repeated, staring at the textbook dejectedly, “It just stresses me out to no end. I’ve never been so bad at a class before, and I’m definitely going to fail the test tomorrow.”

Minho’s pretty lips curled into a small smile, and he reached over Jisung’s lap to pick up the textbook.  
“Not if I can help it,” the smile bloomed into a full blown grin as Minho scooted closer to Jisung, opening the textbook to the chapter they needed to study, “I’m kind of a human Psychology index, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Trust me, I’ve noticed,” Jisung grumbled a little, watching Minho’s fingers flip through the pages, “It’s only a little bit infuriating. _ You’re _infuriating.”

“I try,” Minho grinned, finally finding the page that he was looking for, “So here’s the thing about chlorpromazine and tardive dyskinesia…”

The two of them were up until 3am studying for the test, even though their class was at 10am and they really needed the sleep. They ended up sharing the fluffy blanket, and Jisung tugged Minho’s extra sweater over his head somewhere around 1 in the morning. Somehow, he found himself understanding Vygotsky’s Theory of Cognitive Development better when it was Minho explaining it, especially with his dramatic hand movements and silly metaphors. Jisung felt like he was the new expert on telling the difference between retroactive and proactive amnesia, and it was all thanks to the pretty boy who stayed up past midnight to teach him the most basic concepts of Psychology. 

Jisung woke up at 8 in the morning to his phone alarm blaring Girls Generation, rubbing at his eyes sleepily. His back was a little sore, and he stretched slightly before opening his eyes. He woke up with his legs hanging off of the couch, and his head nestled in Minho’s lap. There were many blankets strewn over the pair of devoted Psychology students, and Jisung’s tiny body was still drowning in Minho’s favorite sweater. 

The younger boy scanned the room, finally letting his eyes fall on the owner of the lap he was occupying. Much to his surprise, Minho was awake as well, and he was looking back at him. 

“Good morning sleepyhead,” Minho yawned a little, scrunching up his pink nose, “I’m so glad I was up before you, because if you woke me up with a Girls Generation alarm I would’ve killed you.”

Jisung let out a hoarse morning-laugh, admiring Minho’s messy blue hair and raspy voice. The older gave him a sleepy smile, and Jisung finally noticed the slender fingers fiddling with a strand of his hair. 

“How long have you been awake?” Jisung yawned too, covering his face to save himself the embarrassment of the flawless boy above him seeing his yawning face.

“Half an hour,” Minho said nonchalantly, tugging at a loose thread in one of the blankets. 

Jisung sat straight up, “Why didn’t you get up? What have you been doing for half an hour?”

“I didn’t want to disrupt your beauty sleep,” Minho laughed with a shrug, pushing himself up off of the couch once his lap was free, “I just thought about the test for a while, planning my outfit I guess.”

Jisung didn’t have time to process Minho’s words, the older boy already starting up the coffee maker in the kitchen. He took a moment to appreciate the view, taking a mental screenshot. Minho in his blue pajamas that matched his tangled hair, taking Jisung’s mug out of the cupboard. Wait, _ Jisung’s _mug?

“What are you doing with my mug?” Jisung frowned, pushing the blankets off of his lap and struggling to his feet. Minho gave him a confused look, raising a defined eyebrow. 

“Do you not want coffee?” Minho asked with a hint of something weird in his voice, and if he didn’t know any better, Jisung would say that it was bashfulness. 

“N-No I… I would love some, please,” Jisung bit at his chapped lips, watching Minho scoop enough coffee grounds for two people. His heart did a flip in his chest, the way it did when Hyunjin showed him videos of his roommate dancing - or more recently, the way it did when Minho wiped his tears and played with his hair. He decided that thinking too much about the blue haired angel (previously devil) would be too much for his little heart to take. 

With an early morning sniffle, Jisung shuffled to their shared room to get dressed from the day. He changed into his favorite pair of jeans, hoping that they would give him at least a little bit of luck. Running a brush through his knotty hair, Jisung thought about dyeing his hair again. His eyes were too swollen for contacts, likely from crying _ and _staying up far later than usual. The blonde slid his glasses up his nose, straightening them fussily before leaving the room. He kept Minho’s sweater on. 

Jisung sat back down on the couch, opening the Psychology textbook to do some last minute reviewing. 

“Oh no you don’t,” Minho stopped him, holding two mugs of coffee, “Don’t overload yourself with information, it will only make you do worse.”

Jisung gave a pout, reluctantly closing the book. Minho handed him a cup of coffee in his favorite mug, and he gladly accepted. He heard the older mumble something along the lines of _ ‘just one sec.’ _A few moments later, Minho reappeared with a bowl of cereal. He held it out to Jisung, his cheeks strongly resembling the color of a cherry. Red looked good on Minho’s face. It was Jisung’s favorite color.

“Is this…” Jisung started, looking up at Minho. 

“Yes, it’s Galactic Crunch.”

“Did you-”

“Yes, Jisung, I poured the milk first. Now please take it before I combust,” Minho mumbled, turning his heated face away, “I’m not the domestic type.”

“Are you sure about that?” Jisung felt a smug smile spread across his face, reaching out to take the bowl. 

“Eat your damn cereal Han Jisung,” Minho grumbled, hiding his face behind the sleeve of his sweater and scurrying into the bedroom. 

He didn’t emerge for a long while, so Jisung just enjoyed his cereal and coffee with a stupid grin on his face. Once he was done, he rinsed his dishes and flopped back down on the couch, probably ruining his recently brushed hair. He grew a little concerned once Minho had been gone for an hour, and he knocked on the bedroom door quietly. A little _ ‘mm?’ _came from the other side of the door, and Jisung’s heart melted a little bit. 

“Did you die?” he mused, wrapping his hand around the doorknob.

Minho snorted, “No, I’m trying to make myself look less dead. You can come in.”

Jisung gently turned the knob and entered, the breath knocked out of him by the sight of Minho wearing pink. The peach colored t-shirt was layered over a black turtleneck, and tucked into the same pair of ripped black skinny jeans. Jisung’s eyes traced over the chain around Minho’s hip before wandering back up, watching Minho apply his makeup in the mirror. He held his breath as his roommate brushed a sparkly pink powder over his eyelid. 

“Cute,” Jisung exhaled, like when you let go of the breath that you didn’t realize you were holding. 

“Hmm?” Minho turned to look at him, his head tilting inquisitively and his blue hair mingling with his long eyelashes. 

“N-Nothing, I-I’ll just, um, like, wait for you outside then? Cause you’re like, um, like not dead?” Jisung cringed at his own words, slowly backing out of the room. Minho smiled at him. 

15 minutes later, Jisung was straightening his glasses (they were already perfectly aligned) as Minho tied the laces of his combat boots. 

“You look nice today,” Minho said with a gentle smile, shoving his keys into his bag. 

“Me?!” Jisung asked incredulously, his voice cracking a little, “_ You _look nice today!”

“Yeah, I know,” Minho gave him a devastating smirk, “But those glasses are nice, and that sweater is a good look.”

“It’s-”

“My sweater, I know. That’s why it’s a good look,” Minho said boldly, and Jisung was smitten. 

Jisung passed the exam with flying colours, scoring the third highest in the class. He was only beaten by Minho (human Psychology textbook), and Hyunjin (human Psychology textbook’s right hand man). 

The three of them celebrated by going out for the night, after Hyunjin convinced Jisung to skip his classes for the next day. He also coaxed him into staying out late trying drinks that sounded like they were straight out of a Harry Potter book. Hwang Hyunjin was what Jisung’s mother would call a bad influence, but also a best friend. 

Minho was the group’s designated driver, so he didn’t have any excuse to miss his classes. He was gone by the time Jisung woke up, his bed already made, cherry Kool Aid stain and all. Head pounding, the blonde boy trudged into the kitchen, feeling guilty about skipping his class. On the counter he found his favorite mug, filled with hot coffee, next to a bottle of aspirin. Wondering what hour of the day it was, he fished in his pocket for his phone. Jisung glanced at the screen - it was already 3pm, and there were a few texts on his home screen. He cringed a little at the far too formal contact name.

**Lee Minho**

_ good morning!!!!!! _

_ i left u sum coffee nd aspirin on the counter _

_ drink sum water 2 _

_ ok class is startng _

_ [Change _ ** _Lee Minho_ ** _ ’s contact name to _ ** _tiktok boy_ ** _ ?] _

_ ✓ ✗ _

_ [Contact successfully changed!] _

**tiktok boy**

_ I CNA SEE WHEN U CHAGNE MY NAME _

_ UR DEAD TO ME _

**Han Jisung**

_ i speak the truth _

_ and thanks fro the coffee _

_ [ _ ** _tiktok boy _ ** _ has changed your contact name to _ ** _squirrl boy_ ** _ ] _

**squirrl boy**

_ HEY _

**tiktok boy **

_ would u look at the time i hav to go! _

_ bye rodent boy! _

**squirrl boy**

_ im gonna do a thing _

_ dont be surprised if i have red hair when u get home _

**tiktok boy**

_ how could i b surprised if u jus told me u were gna do it _

_ gl and dont stain the bathroom pls _

**squirrl boy**

_ no promises _

_ [ _ ** _tiktok boy _ ** _ has changed your contact name to _ ** _flaming hot cheeto_ ** _ ] _

**flaming hot cheeto**

_ WATCH IT LEE _

Minho came home 3 hours later to a red-haired Jisung sitting on the couch, a smile spreading across his vulpine face. 

“Hey cheeto boy,” Minho snickered, ruffling Jisung’s freshly dyed hair and throwing himself onto the couch next to his roommate. 

“Shut _ up _,” Jisung whined, scooting out of the older’s reach. However, resistance was futile, because Minho just moved closer and continued to muss his bright red hair. 

They eventually settled into a comfortable position, Jisung turning on his laptop and playing the next episode of Sailor Moon.

The two of them stayed like that for a few hours, Jisung watching anime with wide eyes while Minho absentmindedly played with his hair. Neither of them noticed the sky turning dark, and the sun slipping below the horizon. 

Jisung’s laptop made a small _ ding!, _notifying him of the low battery percentage. 

“Oh my god, it’s almost 4am,” Jisung gaped, looking at Minho in horror. The older had long abandoned playing with his hair, now leaning his head on Jisung’s shoulder and scrolling through Tumblr. 

“Yeah,” Minho looked back at him, “Time does indeed pass. Especially when you’re watching 3 whole seasons of Sailor Moon.”

“Smartass,” Jisung snorted, “We should both be asleep.”

“Why? Tomorrow’s - er, today’s Saturday. Nothing to do today, nowhere to be.”

“Saturday!” Jisung almost yelled, leaping to his feet and running to the balcony. Minho winced, the sudden movement jarring his comfortable position. 

“What’s the hurry?” Minho yawned, following the younger onto the balcony. 

“Jupiter is out tonight!” Jisung cheered excitedly, looking up at the night sky. He pointed eagerly to a white blob in the sky, and Minho squinted a little to make it out more clearly. 

“Why is Jupiter special?” Minho wondered out loud, sitting down on one of their folding balcony chairs. 

Jisung sat down in the chair next to his, smiling widely, “It’s the biggest in our solar system. It’s the most important part, second only to the Sun. It protects the Earth from asteroids, it helps make our atmosphere inhabitable, it makes up two thirds of our solar system’s matter… and some other stuff. Y’know.”

He glanced over at Minho, to see the older boy giving him a fond smile. 

“I-I’m majoring in Astronomy, I don’t just randomly know a lot about Jupiter,” Jisung quickly explain, and he frowned a little when Minho let out a mirthful laugh. 

“I know what you’re majoring in, Sungie,” Minho shook his head fondly, “I figured it out when Hyunjin showed me the notes you borrowed from him. You returned them covered in little drawings of constellations and planets. He thought it was cute.”

Jisung looked away quickly, staring at his feet, “I didn’t know he showed you that.”

“I’m glad he did,” Minho smiled softly, “It made you more human to me.”

“More human?” Jisung turned back to look at the older boy, his curiosity piqued. 

“When I first met you,” Minho cleared his throat, “I was kinda jealous of you. You’re a devoted student, and you clearly enjoy school. I’ve always wanted that, but I’ve never been able to dedicate myself to subjects that I don’t care about. I only have time for Psychology, dance, and art. I can’t force myself to get high grades in pointless things like Math or History. But when Hyunjin showed me your doodles and told me about your love for the stars, I realized that you’re just a passionate person capable of applying themselves. But I still messed with you after that, just because it’s fun to see your mildly annoyed but mostly entertained face.”

“Wait, you-... art? Is that your major?” Jisung gaped at him, his eyes wide with interest. Minho gave him a shy smile, along with a nod. 

“I always thought you were majoring in Psychology,” Jisung mumbled, tracing the older’s jawline with his eyes. 

“No, but it’s cool. I like understanding that kind of stuff. What we do and why we do it,” Minho looked up at the sky, “I’m a painter. Which is kind of laughable these days, but it’s what I’ve always wanted to do.”

Jisung’s heart did a thing in his chest, “It’s not laughable,” he said quietly, staring at the sharp line of Minho’s nose, “I think it’s nice.”

“You really think so?” Minho smiled a small smile, his eyes reflecting the stars in the night sky. 

“I do.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, Minho watching the stars glimmer while Jisung admired the full moon. After a few moments, the recently red-haired boy spoke up. 

“That’s you,” Jisung said quietly, pointing to their left at the glowing orb in the sky. 

Minho followed his pointing finger, “What, the moon?”

“Yeah,” he answered simply. But Minho didn’t seem satisfied with that answer, so he kept talking. 

“The moon is a dancer, you know. Just like you.” Jisung felt himself smile, just thinking about it. Minho tilted his head a little, his blue hair glowing a deep navy in the yellow balcony lights. This told Jisung that he still didn’t understand. 

“It’s always moving. So slowly that we can’t even see it. Dancing all alone in the sky, turning pirouettes for no applause,” Jisung mused fondly, staring at the big silver ball that hung in the heavens, “The moon is kind, too. Like you. A friend to even the loneliest people. It represents imagination, and strong dreams. And it reminds me of you.”

Jisung admired the full moon for a moment, thinking about all of the lonely nights he spent talking to the moon. He was pulled from his nostalgia by a small sniffle. Alarmed, he turned quickly to see Minho wiping at his eyes. 

“I’m.. I’m not crying. There’s just a fork in my eye,” Minho hiccupped, eyeliner smudged, “You’re just really good at talking.”

Wordlessly, Jisung took Minho’s hand. He gave it a firm squeeze, and met his gaze. His eyes crinkled in a smile that said everything he needed to say, without him opening his mouth. Minho watched him with wonder, the same way Jisung looked at meteor showers and shooting stars. A few silent tears slipped from the older’s mesmerized eyes, and he let them fall into his lap. 

After a while, Minho broke their eye contact to stare at the moon. Jisung joined him in admiring the moon - his moon. He watched Minho’s brown eyes flit around the night sky, wondering how long he could stay like this. Forever, maybe. 

“Sungie,” Minho breathed out. Jisung answered with a small hum, not taking his eyes off of the older’s captivating eyes. 

“If that one is me,” Minho pointed at the moon to the left, then shifted his arm towards the right. Jisung tore his eyes away from Minho’s face, following his pointing finger.

”Then I think that one’s you.”

His heart filled with something warm and sweet, like honey, as Minho pointed at the ever rising sun. 

**Author's Note:**

> AHHHH I HOPE U ENJOYEDDDD this spun out of control anyways jisung sun
> 
> also there may or may not b a changjin sequel in the works already


End file.
